Leia's Last Message
by Tathrin
Summary: Episode IX opens with the Resistance safe in their new secret base, preparing to strike back at the First Order while General Organa travels the galaxy to rally support, one step ahead of the enemy agents trying to shut her down. She sends a message back to Rey, one last chance for her to explain before the weight of saving the galaxy comes crashing down on the young woman's head.


_Ever since my first viewing of Episode VIII I've wondered, if I'd been the one left holding the bag after Rian Johnson's film, what would I do? How could I take those pieces and turn them into a satisfying conclusion to the new trilogy? How could I write a story that gives Leia the credit she deserves without the irreplaceable Carrie Fisher there to play her? What kind of story would I write, if I were the one responsible for inventing the next installment?_

 _Well, I think I've finally figured it out. I don't plan to write out an entire film's worth of fanfic about it, but this at least is how I would start the story..._

* * *

The sleek little craft curved across the star-speckled void, skirting the enormous orange and yellow gas giant in favor of a path toward the small gray-blue moon orbiting the fiery behemoth. The ship's narrow profile and gleaming dark paintjob reeked of both wealth and discretion, but the sharp angle it took down through the atmosphere of the moon radiated haste and impatience. Rain and strong winds met the ship the moment it descended low enough for air currents and precipitation to exist, and lightning flashed nearby several times as it dropped toward the rough surface.

A cluster of lights spoke of a city or town—some evidence of sentient habitation, anyway—but the ship ignored the welcoming glow, angling for a patch of pitted earth and scraggly trees instead. At first when the crack opened in the base of the mountain, it seemed like nothing more than another lightning strike—but the lightning faded and the glowing crack remained, growing wider as the blast door cunningly concealed among the rocks and brush rose high enough to admit the little ship into the hanger within the mountain.

It was a cramped, crowded room, packed with bustling techs, mechanics, pilots, and droids. The ships inside were a ragtag hodgepodge of vehicles, most of them battered and scuffed from age and battle. There was a greater than average number of X-Wings, some of them new models and some so old they looked like they might be relics of the Galactic Civil War against the Empire. At least two bore a distinctive red stripe along their sides, although the ships were so packed-in that it was hard to be sure that there weren't more thus marked.

The sleek little ship ignored all the X-Wings, old and new alike. Rain streaming from its elegant vanes and curves, it rotated on its repulsors and settled neatly into place next to a wide, saucer-shaped ship marred by rust patches and spot-welding.

Some of that welding was fresh, being added to that very moment by a tall, chestnut-furred Wookiee sitting atop the craft with a torch in one hand and a pair of protective goggles held over his eyes by the other. He lowered both torch and goggles as the new ship landed, raised his head, and barked an interrogative.

The hatch of the little ship lowered and a humanoid figure walked out, long cloak swishing. The hood of the cloak was up to shield against the water still dripping from the ship, but not to conceal the new arrival's identity—at least not from the Wookiee.

Chewbacca roared a greeting and swung off the edge of the _Millenium Falcon_ , dropping easily to the ground. A fall like that would have injured most humanoids, but Chewie was a Wookiee from the arboreal world of Kashyyyk and he took leaps like that in stride.

Three more of those long strides had him beside the cloaked figure, whom he swept up in a long-armed hug. The newcomer hugged back, but Chewie stepped away after a few seconds, looking troubled. He sniffed the air and looked around, as though expecting someone else who was absent. He barked a question; the newcomer's hooded head shook side to side in a silent negative.

They exchanged a few more quick, quiet words. The noise of the crowded hanger drowned out whatever the newcomer said, and even Chewbacca's growled Shyriiwook responses were barely audible, but Chewbacca's long arm pointing off toward one of the exits to the hanger was unmistakable. The newcomer patted Chewie's bicep in thanks and headed off, hooded head tucked low, winding adroitly through the clutter and clamor. Chewbacca stayed where he stood, staring after the retreating swish of the cloak for a long moment. Then he stepped back under the rim of the _Falcon's_ bulk and rested his head against one of the landing struts as though suddenly overcome with weariness.

He did not roar; whatever latest tragedy had wounded him had hit too deep for that.

The newcomer moved quickly down the narrow hallways of the Resistance base without flagging. Neither the winding cords of jury-rigged illumination and power sources nor the bustling bodies of pilots, techs, and soldiers of all species delayed the swift strides that sent that long cloak billowing. The newcomer dodged around clusters of droids and organics alike with practiced ease, barely noticed by the preoccupied passerby. Once a short human woman whose blonde hair was twisted up in two simple buns paused to stare, but the cloaked figure moved on without looking back and after a moment, she did the same.

Three more turns led to a less crowded hallway whose glowpanels looked even less secure than those that lined the main corridor. The newcomer stepped aside to allow two astromechs—one a bulky, battered old blue unit and the other a small, rounder orange one—to roll past, then stepped up to one of the doors that lined the hall. Graceful brown fingers brushed the stenciled-on designation beside the door—Dorn Cresh 33—as though checking it against a mental map, then pressed the button to open the door. It slid up with a faint _whoosh_ of servos and the cloaked figure stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

Three humans were within, all of them looking startled at the interruption: Two sat on a couch cobbled together from former starship furnishings, while the third sat cross-legged on a table made from stacked crates in front of them. She was a well-muscled, petite woman with pale skin and brown hair worn in gentle loops. If it looked like she had been hovering a few centimeters above the surface of the table before the door opened surely that was a trick of the irregular lighting inside, because humans could not float. Her loose, sleeveless tunic contrasted with the more military jumpsuits and jackets worn by her richer-complexioned companions, but the look of surprise on her face when she turned to stare over her shoulder at the newcomer mirrored theirs perfectly.

Finn, formerly FN-2187 of the First Order, straightened from his comfortable slouch to stiff military precision, although he did not stand; he would not have been able to do that without dislodging the other man on the couch: Commander Poe Dameron, pilot-hero of the Resistance, who was flopped sideways along the couch with his feet stretched casually across Finn's lap. Both men held datapads, although Poe discarded his almost immediately.

"You're kidding me," he said aloud, swinging his legs around and planting his feet on the floor so he could sit up and face the newcomer, although he didn't rise or offer a greeting.

"Who—?" Finn began, but the newcomer was already throwing his hood back, revealing a lined but still handsome brown face, close-cropped black curls, and a graying but luxuriant mustache. His eyes were dark and haunted but the smile he mustered for the three younger humans was bright and charming, albeit fleeting.

"Lando Calrissian, at your service," he said and swept a gallant bow that made his cape swish. He stepped the rest of the way into the room, letting the door swish shut behind him.

"Lando Calrissian?" Rey echoed, swinging around to face him properly, her own eyes going wide. "Not the Lando Calrissian of the Tatooine Tibanna Swindle, the Coruscant Krytos Con, and the Borealis Double-Bluff?"

"Not Rebel General Lando Calrissian, of the Battles of Endor, Borealis, and Togruta?" Finn said, sounding every bit as awestruck as Rey.

"The same," said Poe flatly, before Lando could do more than blink and smile, equally pleased and bewildered by the recognition. "He's also a man you should never play cards with, or bet against on any kind of a race. What are you doing here, Lando? Last I heard, you'd given up all this Rebel nonsense to make your seventh fortune and teach your daughter how to fleece celebrities at Sabacc."

Lando's smile broadened a moment as he met Poe's eyes, then faded to a deep and exhausted sorrow. "All true," he said, "but a favor's a favor, and when an old friend called for a ride…" He shrugged.

"Leia," guessed Poe. It didn't sound like a question. "You're the one who helped Leia get off the grid, after the First Order started tracking her rallies."

Lando nodded. "She found something else she wanted to look into on her own, too," he said. The cultured charm of his tone couldn't hide the darker undercurrent of his voice. "Something…big. Something she didn't want anyone knowing about, First Order _or_ Resistance, until she was sure she was right."

"What?" asked Rey, sounding eager and hopeful. She slid off the table, bouncing lightly on her feet as though preparing to run off and find whatever it was Leia had sought the moment someone gave her a directional heading.

Lando shook his head. "There's something else you have to know first," he said, his voice heavy. "There's a message she wanted me to deliver, if…if she couldn't do it herself."

A tight silence met his words.

"What do you mean, if she couldn't do it herself?" Finn demanded. "Did the First Order capture her? We have to go after her right away—"

"No," Lando said. There was no twinkle in his eye this time. "No, they didn't capture her." He reached into his pocket and drew out a folded piece of flimsi. "Here," he said, holding it out to Rey. "You must be Rey. That means this is for you."

"Lando…" Poe began, but Lando shook his head again.

"Wait," he said. "Let the lady read first."

"Rey…?" Finn asked, his face crinkled with worry.

Rey looked from the flimsi in her hand to the dark-eyed man sitting on the couch. She swallowed, unable to force a smile for him although she desperately wanted to, and said, "I'll read it out loud, all right?" She glanced toward Lando, as though checking for permission, but he stared back at her without reacting, his eyes dark.

Rey sank down on the table again, her fingers shaking slightly as she carefully unfolded the worn piece of flimsi. Lando leaned back against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, and bowed his head as though in preparation for shouldering a great weight. Finn and Poe leaned forward on the couch together, Poe clasping his hands tightly between his knees and Finn resting his curled fists on his thighs. They both stared at Rey, who ducked her head and began to read:

 _My Dearest Rey,_

 _I have to start by apologizing. I should have told you. I knew the moment I felt you coming in on the_ Falcon _. I should have told you then, but I was afraid. You were so hurt by Han's death already, so worried about Finn, so furious at—_

Rey looked up from the letter, meeting Finn's eyes briefly. "She's written Ben, but she's crossed it out and put Kylo Ren instead."

"That monster doesn't deserve the name his parents gave him," Finn replied immediately. "Anything in him that was this 'Ben' died with Han Solo."

The look on Poe's face was more troubled, but he didn't say anything; just gestured for Rey to keep reading. Lando, his head still lowered and his eyes hidden, did nothing at all.

After a moment Rey took a deep breath, and continued:

 _—so furious at Kylo Ren, that I was afraid of what learning it on top of everything else would do to you. I remember what learning that Darth Vader was our father did to Luke; what it did to me._

 _I know how heavy a burden it is, being a Skywalker. That's why I spent so many years hiding my connection to Darth Vader, letting Luke walk that path without me. It wasn't because I was afraid of how people would react. It was because I didn't want to accept it myself, even if that meant rejecting Luke from my family too. That backfired of course, because once the truth got out everyone thought there had to be some sinister reason for my hiding it rather than that I just didn't want to face it, didn't want to accept the fact that the man who sired me had helped murder my mother and father, my whole planet, and so many other innocents in the name of the Empire over all those years—but that wasn't enough for people, they made up reasons of their own, reasons that they used to hurt the Resistance in my name._

 _You would think I'd have learned my lesson about keeping secrets from that, wouldn't you? But I didn't mean to keep this a secret from you. I just wanted to give you a few days to recover before I broke the news. I admit that I also hoped that when you were ready to know the Force might tell you, that you might feel it too, our connection._

Rey paused and looked up again, her face stricken this time. "I did feel it," she whispered. "The moment I met Leia, I felt—but I didn't realize…" She shook her head and bent back to the letter before any of the others could speak.

Finn opened his mouth but Poe put a hand on his arm, silencing him. Finn looked back and forth between Poe and Rey, his face wrinkled in confusion and concern, but neither of them looked back at him; Rey's attention was rapt on the letter and Poe's gaze had fixed on Rey with the unblinking intensity of a proton torpedo lock. His whole body had gone tense, and the hand that gripped Finn's arm was white-knuckled with strain. He barely seemed to be breathing. Finn looked at him worriedly for a few seconds, then slid his gaze back to Rey. At some point as she read, tears began trickling down her cheeks, only noticeable when they dripped onto her trembling hands.

 _But before either the Force or I could work up the nerve, we discovered how to send you to Luke. I was relieved. I thought he'd know better than me when to tell you. I was afraid, after what happened to Ben, and I let that fear keep me silent. I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday._

 _I knew Luke would sense who you were the moment he met you—_

"But you said he'd cut himself off from the Force," Finn interrupted excitedly. "So whatever he was supposed to sense, he wouldn't have felt it, so—"

"Let her read," Poe said, his voice tight with strain, his eyes not leaving Rey's bowed head.

Finn fell silent again, looking ever more troubled. Rey, her voice soft and halting, continued:

 _—and would know when it was a safe point in your training to tell you without the knowledge tempting you toward the Dark Side. But you came back, still not knowing, and Luke was dead. He couldn't tell me when it was safe for you to know, so I had to figure it out on my own._

 _I almost told you during our escape from Crait but I didn't want to do it on the Falcon, with everyone crowded on top of each other. I wanted to wait until you could have some privacy for your feelings. But by the time we found our new base, I knew I would have to leave to rally support against the First Order and I didn't want you to come with me. You had too much of your own to do, and I couldn't have you putting it aside to follow my path. And I knew it would be dangerous, and I wanted to keep you safe for a little longer._

 _I should have told you before I left, but I didn't think I'd be able to stop you from coming along if you knew—_

Rey's voice broke with a sob.

 _—if you knew I was your mother. I was going to tell you when I came back, but if you're reading this it's because I won't be making it back to you. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this in person. I'm sorry I passed up all those chances that I should have taken. I'm sorry we didn't have more time._

 _I love you, Breha Organa Solo. I'm sorry I lost you. I never should have left you. Not then, and not now. But know that I always loved you and that whatever happens, my love will always be with you._

 _Your mother,_  
 _Leia_

Rey stared at the letter in her hands for a long, long time. No one else spoke. Eventually she looked up at Lando and said, "What happened?"

"Leia didn't want to risk the information falling into the wrong hands. If Be—if Kylo Ren hasn't figured out you're his sister yet, she didn't want him knowing. She was afraid he'd be able to use that knowledge to hurt you, somehow. That's why she wrote it on flimsi instead of making a holorecording, so it would be easy to destroy if anything—"

"No. What happened to—to my mother?"

Lando fell silent. His eyes gleamed wetly in the spotty light of the jury-rigged glowpanels. "She died," he said. Poe made a noise that was half-gasp and half-sob and pressed his hands to his face, as though to smother further sounds. Neither Rey nor Lando broke their locked gazes to look at him and Finn's eyes too remained fixed on Rey, but he reached over and squeezed Poe's knee, offering what comfort he could to the man who had spent his whole life at the General Organa's side.

"I'm sorry," Lando continued heavily. "There was nothing I could do. Leia found—well, it'll be easier if I just show you, it's on my ship. But she wanted you to have this, too."

He reached into his pocket again and walked forward so that he was standing a mere arm's reach from Rey and held out his hand. For a moment Rey just stared, unable to bring herself to move.

"I guess you don't remember me, huh?" Lando said softly, a sorrowful smile teasing at his lips. "You were pretty little the last time I saw you. Couldn't even say your full name yet. Me, you just called 'Do.'" He blinked hard, stopping most of his tears from making it past his lashes, but a few slipped free. "Your Uncle Do, that was me. It broke my heart when we thought—when we thought you'd died. That Ben had killed you."

Rey gasped, her eyes flashing up from Lando's hand to his face. "When what?" she whispered.

Lando nodded, his hand falling slowly back to his side. "That's what broke your parents, your uncle. We all thought you were dead. And we thought it was Ben—Kylo Ren—who'd done it. Leia told me you were on Jakku?"

Rey nodded, a stiff and automatic gesture, like a droid's programmed response.

"I don't know if he put you there, or someone else got you away from him—things were pretty chaotic back when…well, when Ben went Dark. But your dad—he refused to believe you were dead. Leia and Luke, they said they'd felt it in the Force, so I guess Ben—or Snoke—tricked them somehow. But Han wouldn't accept it. That's why he and Leia separated: he went looking for you and she threw herself into the Resistance to stop Snoke and—and Kylo Ren hurting anyone else." Lando shrugged and gave her a bitter smile. "And I went back to conning people out of their money. It was easier than having to care about things. But I guess—well, I guess it's time to stop sticking my head in the sand. I'm here to help, princess, if you'll have me."

He stretched out his hand again and this time Rey took what he gave her: the ring Leia had worn every day that Rey had known her, two blue stones twined together into one. She held it in her palm for a long moment, staring at it. Then her shoulders lifted in a heavy, determined breath that was almost a sigh. She slipped the ring on her left hand and looked up at Lando, meeting his eyes with a blazing gaze of fierce determination.

"Okay," Rey said. "Let's see your ship." She looked back over her shoulder at Poe and Finn, who were rising slowly to their feet behind her, Poe looking haunted and Finn worried. She met their eyes and added grimly, "And then we'll figure out how to kill my brother."


End file.
